


Rainbow Connection

by Sugarbowl



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Domestic Fluff, Fairy Tale Retellings, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, my First Jinson (TM)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-19 10:19:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12408522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sugarbowl/pseuds/Sugarbowl
Summary: Jinyoung’s life doesn’t seem like it can get any worse, until it does. And then, someone special turns his world upside down.// Belatedly crossposted from the Got-Hyung Fic Exchange on LJ!





	Rainbow Connection

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seitsemannen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seitsemannen/gifts).



> [ Alert: ] you may have already read this! I wrote it as a gift for seitsemannen, during the Got-Hyung Fic Exchange, on Livejournal. I'm crossposting it here so I can get all my fic neatly in one place.
> 
> I'd never written Jinson before this, but agreed to help pinch-hit as one of the authors couldn't fulfill the prompt. So this was quite an adventure for me! It was so surprisingly fun and easy to write, I hope you guys enjoy it too!

//

A downpour. Of course. As if Park Jinyoung’s universe could not be skewed more stereotypically against him. Another wave of crowds shoving their way out of the office for the weekend sends him stumbling out into the thick of it.

He’s soaked to the bone before he can even think of what the driest way home would be, so he sets out on his usual path.

The tiny bus shelter around the corner is absolutely packed, so he knows it'll be easier to just keep walking. Stop after stop confirms this with similar scenes of desperate commuters crammed against one another.

Jinyoung sighs as he keeps trudging along, grateful to have had the foresight to pack his things in an extra layer of waterproof casing, as his briefcase can only offer so much protection. His dress shoes, however, are another matter, and he tries not to focus on the rhythmic squelch of his socks.

It's not enough, he thinks bitterly to himself, it's not enough that he's been looked over for another promotion at his office. It's not enough, that the bright, optimistic career in children’s publishing he thought would come naturally to him is actually a mess of bureaucracy and office politics.

On top of it all, his mother is hounding him about relationships again — asking incessantly after Mark, his ex-boyfriend. (Of six years now.)

“But you two were so good together,” she had whined this afternoon on a long call, dominating an already brief lunch break.

They weren't, but Jinyoung does still sometimes like to pretend they were. Like when he’s especially lonely in the tiny rooftop flat he rents, waxing nostalgic about when another body had warmed his little bed.

But Mark, kind and patient as he was, had been looking for more adventure. Jinyoung's career and ambitions had been stagnating for too long, he’d literally left him for California. The romantic image Jinyoung conjures of Mark now, on some fantastic beach with sunlight in his hair, is almost enough to warm him in this rain.

But imagination is never quite enough, Jinyoung thinks glumly, as a sneeze tears through his chest. At least he can see his building up ahead. At least there will be hot water there.

Jinyoung slops through the muddied lobby, feeling drained and beaten down, ducking into the thankfully empty elevator for the long and creaky ride up to the top level. Before he can rejoice on liftoff, an arm interrupts the doors and in slips his hot musician neighbor.

Jinyoung shuts his eyes for a moment, trying not to imagine how truly miserable he must look at the moment, before composing himself and bowing his head with a creaky ‘evening.’

His neighbor seems to just barely notice him, and then startles a bit.

A flinch, Jinyoung notes in resignation. So he looks flinchingly awful. Is that better or worse than he expected? (Worse.)

“Wet out there,” mumbles his neighbor, running a hand through damp hair that now looks artfully mussed. (Prick.) Jinyoung indulges in staring at the moles over his eye and the cavalcade of too-cool piercings in his ear for just a moment, before turning away with a tired sigh.

Of course his most intimidating neighbor would be witness to this: the day Jinyoung’s miserable universe finally implodes. Luckily he gets off two floors before Jinyoung, and although he politely offers a two-fingered wave as he disembarks, Jinyoung sees the tension around his teeth, knows he’s holding back another piteous flinch.

Jinyoung nods in reply, keeps nodding even after the doors shut and then lets out a long, exhausted groan. Hot water, he thinks to himself once more. At least his electric kettle won’t disappoint him.

It’s another short flight of stairs from the top level to get out on the rooftop, and Jinyoung attributes his full body numbness to barely feeling the chill of more rain against his skin, as he heads over to the tin can he calls home.

He expects to fumble with his door a bit — the numbers have all worn off the keypad and the door jamb always swells with rain so you have to shoulder it in sometimes. But he certainly doesn’t expect another obstacle. Not from the animal kingdom, anyhow.

Settled comfortably on his doormat, is an enormous, creaking bullfrog. It looks peaceful, almost like it’s smiling.

“Christ,” Jinyoung huffs, “what the fuck is going on today?”

Jinyoung spends one moment too long racking his brain — are bullfrogs even native here? Is this something he's just managed to avoid seeing, or is this as strange as he thinks it is?

Aren’t storms and frogs a little plague-y? A quick glance at the ominous sky to question his atheism, and a drop hits him exactly in the eyeball. So he returns his attentions to the frog with a curled lip.

“Get out of here,” he insists, and presses a hesitant toe to one side, in the hopes of pushing it out of the way.

Instead, the frog holds its ground surprisingly well, and lets out a lower croak, as if in irritation. Jinyoung panics slightly. Is he going to pop the frog? Didn’t he read something once about frogs exploding? Is he going to end up shivering wet and frigid from this storm, and covered in bullfrog innards?

He lets off the pressure with his foot. The frog croaks again, and this time it sounds lighter, lilting. Is he thankful? Its eyes are very exactly fixed on Jinyoung’s. It looks friendly, Jinyoung thinks for a moment, and then rolls his eyes at himself.

Is he so desperately lonely that even a fat, wet frog looks like potential for companionship?

“I have to get by, your highness,” he murmurs. “Can you move your ass, please?”

The bullfrog definitely smiles.

Jinyoung blinks. Did it? Did it really truly smile at him?

The frog lets out a louder, happier rrribbit, and then jumps at him. Jinyoung shrieks, ducking out of the way as the warty green creature hurls itself in his direction. And then again. And again. They nearly dance like this, for two long minutes, Jinyoung yelping and cursing, as the frog seems hell-bent on reaching his height.

In the fray, Jinyoung finally manages to slam his passcode into the keypad and unceremoniously shoves himself through his doorway. But it only takes one toe slipping over the wet, uneven threshold and he sprawls flat on his face in his own apartment.

Jinyoung lays still for a long moment, trying to gather his wits and prioritize. Firstly, he’s immensely grateful he lives alone. When he did a short stay at a student hostel, the younger boys – Yugyeom especially – would have been gathered like vultures, screeching around him in laughter.

Secondly, the rain has abruptly stopped. A long sunbeam stretches in through the open doorway, warming his outstretched hand which valiantly tried to cushion his landing.

And thirdly, as his breath hitches in surprise and he lifts his chin off the faded linoleum, he sees it. The frog has hopped inside with him, settled right before his face, and the sunlight is piercing prismatically through his window’s glass as a rainbow, settling on him like the heavens have led him here. The suddenly dazzling frog blinks. Jinyoung is so close, he can hear the slick noise of it.

Jinyoung groans and presses his face back to the floor, disgusted. Maybe when he looks up again, the frog will have wandered back outside. It had seemed perfectly satisfied in the pouring rain, so why would he like it in here, where it’s warm and dry?

Jinyoung looks up again, hopeful. The frog has moved closer. It croaks slowly, the tone softer. Jinyoung frowns, huffing out an irritated sigh right into its face.

“I never invited you inside, you know, even vampires have better manners–mmpgh!” He starts to complain, but the frog shuffles forward and presses its mouth to Jinyoung’s.

Jinyoung, for once, doesn’t freeze. He launches backward with a scream, eyes screwed shut in horror, reaching around him to find only the shoe rack by the doorway. He lifts a sneaker above his head and slams it down where the frog sat a second earlier.

He had tried being humane. He had tried being polite. And where did it get him? (He was probably going to die of frog herpes.)

“Who do you think you are?” Jinyoung yells, slamming his shoe down over and over, one eye squeezed shut.

When he feels no satisfying splatter, he finally opens both eyes, blinks, and promptly drops his sneaker.

“I’m a prince! I thought you knew!” Exclaims a deep voice. Scooted out of Jinyoung’s reach, there’s a young man, curled over defensively, arms above his head. The man lowers them slowly, once he sees Jinyoung has stopped swinging.

“You called me your highness,” the man says, sitting up straighter and beaming. He has a beautiful smile, and gleaming, round eyes. A delicate nose and dark, tousled hair complete the puzzle of his handsome face. He’s even in breeches, a blousey shirt with a bow, and a floral embroidered coat. Jinyoung is surprised at how well the word ‘prince’ fits when he looks at him.

But still, prince??

“How did you get in here?” Jinyoung wonders, looking around in a daze. “Did you see where that bullfrog went?? Nevermind, you know, this is my apartment, I understand squatting may seem like your only option, but I pay for this–!”

“I’m that frog,” the man says excitedly, tapping his broad chest with one hand. “I’m Prince Jackson, and you’ve freed me from my curse! You saw my true identity through it all and I kissed you, just as instructed–!”

Jinyoung lets out a long, tired sigh, taking his time to settle his old sneaker back into its spot in the rack. He’s still soaked, exhausted, beaten down. He doesn’t have the energy to argue with a mentally unstable squatter.

“Look,” Jinyoung offers, standing up slowly. “I won’t call the police if you just head on your way.”

Jackson stands with him, and Jinyoung takes in his full appearance. A bit shorter than Jinyoung, but broad. Muscular. And really, remarkably handsome. For a hobo. (Just Jinyoung’s luck.)

“But this is destiny! Your lips lifted the curse!” Jackson presses closer, reaching toward Jinyoung.

Jinyoung flinches away, frowning, but he manages a stiff laugh. “Yeah I know, abstinence can certainly feel like a curse,” he says dryly, backing toward his kitchenette in hopes of reaching a better weapon.

Now is probably not a good time to be sarcastic, but surely his day couldn’t get so much worse that it ends in a hobo flipping out and murdering him. (But knowing Jinyoung’s luck.)

“Please don’t be afraid,” says Jackson in a softer voice. “I know it may sound unlikely to you. There doesn’t seem to be as much magic in this universe.”

“This universe,” Jinyoung repeats, reaching behind him to his counter and grasping for absolutely anything. He pulls something back and flicks out... a garlic press. A single, papery bit of garlic peel flutters to the floor like a snowflake. He and Jackson both glance at it and then each other in confusion. Jinyoung rattles the press at him nonetheless.

Jackson smiles sadly. “I know, again, it must sound like a lot. But I’m not here to harm you. I just, landed in some trouble with a powerful warlock, who cursed me, and banished me to another world. I am indebted to you.”

Jinyoung sighs, head throbbing and face feeling hot. A warlock. Another world. At least this guy is creative, he considers, tossing the garlic press back into his sink. It’s refreshing after all the sugar sweet drivel he hears regurgitated at his publishing company.

“He turned you into a frog,” Jinyoung deadpans, trying to highlight how ridiculous this is.

“Yes!” Jackson says, and again, there’s that blinding smile, the unbridled warmth of it downright unnerving.

“To shame me,” he further explains. “Actually, my clan’s totem is a turtle, and we’ve warred with frog-worshiping tribes before, so this was practically double the shame, if you can imagine.”

“A double insult to the turtle clan,” Jinyoung murmurs dryly. “Sure.”

“Anyway, I think I can find my way home,” Jackson says.

“Great. I can call you a cab,” Jinyoung offers, running a hand through his wet hair.

“But I’ll need a diamond, a still-beating heart, and a great rushing river. Oh, and I forgot! Do you have any oxblood around?” Jackson clasps his hands together resolutely, and promptly starts poking through Jinyoung’s kitchenette.

Jinyoung blinks, slowly, and then slides to the floor, eyes shut and feeling dizzy with defeat. “Please don’t murder me,” he sniffles.

Jackson drops the box of pasta he's inspecting with a clatter, kneeling beside him in an instant.

“How could I kill the one I love?” He gasps, clutching Jinyoung's elbow. When Jinyoung opens his eyes, Jackson's face is very close, his deep, dark gaze locked on his lips. Jinyoung feels his face burn.

“You don't love me,” Jinyoung says in a voice he often uses on his three year old nephew. “You don't even know me,” he points out.

“You're hot,” Jackson says with a frown, and Jinyoung wonders why he'd compliment him while wearing such a worried expression.

“Thank you,” Jinyoung says, a shiver running down his spine.

“You're burning up,” Jackson says, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. “I think you’re running a fever.”

“That would explain…this whole dream,” murmurs Jinyoung, slumping further onto the floor.

“We need to get you cooled down,” says Jackson, looking around the apartment. “Running water?”

“I don't have a great rushing river,” Jinyoung slurs, feeling his eyelids start to droop. “I only have a half-bath.”

 

//

 

Jinyoung wakes up with a gasp. It’s dim in his bedroom, the quiet, grey kind of light that could easily be dawn or evening. He’s beyond disoriented, throat aching with infection and skin dewy and cold with sweat.

But he hasn’t been murdered by a transient, he’s in his own bed, and it’s likely still the weekend. So Jinyoung counts his blessings and tries to find his phone to check the time.

Upon further inspection: he’s naked, and it’s nowhere to be seen. That’s weird. (But not a first.)

He clears his throat, pushing back his bedding and intending to wobble out to the living room, when his sliding door slams open and the light clicks on.

Prince Jackson is there with a tray, a bowl of steaming something on it. He’s abandoned his coat in favor of Jinyoung’s apron (a frilly pink atrocity Yugyeom gave him as a joke, but Jinyoung kept, because aprons are useful regardless of color.) Jinyoung yanks his blanket back up over his still naked body.

“Your fever broke!” Jackson exclaims, shuffling carefully to Jinyoung’s side and placing the tray in his lap. The bowl turns out to be full of what looks like ordinary soup. Which smells like heaven. But still. Frog squatter wasn’t a fever dream?

“You… undressed me,” Jinyoung croaks out, eying the soup suspiciously.

“I took care of you,” Jackson says. “Bathed you, dried you, put you to bed. Now that we have one another, we can care for one another.”

“Have one another?” Jinyoung repeats, gripping the spoon nervously. The soup really smells delicious. “Nevermind,” he blurts out. “Is this poisoned?”

Jackson looks frustrated for the first time. “Why would I poison the one I lo–?”

“Nevermind!” Jinyoung interrupts with a groan, and he sips it slowly. It’s delicious. “How does a prince from another universe know how to make this? In a modern home?”

“I’ve been living in this world for a long time,” Jackson says, watching him eat, lips curled in the warmest smile. “I was even a pet for a while. I’ve watched humans for years. And before I was cursed, even as a prince, my mother was very doting. Whenever I was sick, she would personally make me this. And when I grew older, and my father fell very sick, we made it for him together.”

Jinyoung’s heart twinges like it’s been pinched. This frog has quite an imagination, he thinks. Or at least, some sincere memories persist. And he seems harmless, so far. Maybe even a little pitiable. (And damn, he sure can cook!)

Jinyoung sets down the spoon with a sigh. “You can stay for a while,” he says carefully.

Jackson beams at him, nodding and practically bouncing with excitement.

“But,” Jinyoung holds up the spoon threateningly, and Jackson’s bouncing stutters to a stop. “You have to at least get a part time job,” Jinyoung continues. “I don’t know what it’s like for a turtle clan, but a diamond signifies a lot in this world. They aren’t cheap. And I refuse to assist with any of the blood stuff. But I can take you to the Han River.”

He takes a long slurp of the soup, before looking up again to find Jackson clutching at his own chest in joy.

“Thank you,” Jackson gushes, “I can cook more than just soup! And I promise to repay you, once we make it back home.”

Jinyoung is drinking straight out of the bowl now, and he chokes a bit at the declaration, broth dribbling down his chin. He sets the bowl down and Jackson rushes to wipe at his mouth with the edge of his apron.

“What do you mean, we?” Jinyoung says hoarsely, face flushing even more. “I’m not going anywhere. This is my home.”

Jackson pulls back, smile fading slightly. “But your kiss freed me,” he says. “That means you’re the one I love.”

“No,” says Jinyoung firmly. “My kiss cured you, okay. But that just means it was the right remedy. Like a medicine. It has nothing to do with a real kiss, or real love. That’s not how love works in this world.”

“Love works the same everywhere,” says Jackson blithely, eyes wide. “Love is the constant.”

Jinyoung sighs, shuts his eyes for a moment. He thinks about Mark, in California. About the musician downstairs. About his coworker Wonpil, that one time, at last year’s office Christmas party. (Jinyoung has since sworn off whiskey.)

Why couldn’t it have been any of them? Taking care of him when he gets home, tired and sick? Wearing a frilly apron and cooking soup and saying sweet, beautiful things about love crossing the universe?

When Jinyoung opens his eyes again, Jackson is neatly arranging the tray again and quietly slipping out of the room with it. Jinyoung watches him as he leaves, and he flops onto his back, feeling guilty.

Jackson is back in a moment with a damp towel, and pats it to Jinyoung’s warm forehead with a fond expression.

“I don’t mind sharing a bed,” he says cheerfully. “Even though I’m used to sleeping on my own as both a prince and a frog.”

“I’m calling the police,” Jinyoung mutters, trying to sit up. Jackson eases him back with a boisterous laugh.

 

//

 

Jackson finds work sooner than Jinyoung expects. When Jinyoung comes home during the next week, he finds him still proudly wearing a nametag from a nearby pet cafe, while he fries up some rice.

“More animals, of course.” Jinyoung mumbles, trying not to dwell on how nicely simple, modern clothing fits Jackson’s body. He’d picked up some secondhand basics for him, Jackson insisting he’d pay him back with his first paycheck.

But eying the way his shirt sleeves hug his biceps, Jinyoung feels like his investment has paid off already.

“I get to work with puppies!” Jackson confirms. “And coffee. And cats! I think we might have too many cats, it’s like three to every dog. They’re all up for adoption, though, so it might even out. But my boss is way too into cats, so maybe it’ll stay that way. What do you do, anyway?”

Jinyoung’s eyes go wide at the barrage of information. “I work at a publishing company, in children’s literature,” he replies, hovering at Jackson’s elbow to peek at the stir fry.

Jackson lifts up a spoonful for him to taste, and Jinyoung hesitates at the domesticity of the moment, but it smells too good to resist. So he leans in and nibbles off the spoon, Jackson’s hand cupping neatly under his chin in case of any crumbs spilling.

Jinyoung hums in approval, and Jackson moves away with a grin.

“Children’s literature – so do you write all the stories?” Jackson asks. “You must really like kids? Do you want kids?”

Jinyoung’s cheeks flush, and he waves his hand to pause the questioning. “I don't write, but we get to pitch storylines. I like kids, but mainly I just thought it would be a nice place to work. All those storybooks,” Jinyoung sighs, settling on the floor at his small table, loosening his tie.

“All the classic fairy tales, true love’s kiss and little talking critters. It seemed like it would be a nice way to escape from real life. But it turns out the people who publish those stories still have to live in this world, and working there isn’t any different from working anywhere else.”

“Why would you want to escape?” Jackson asks, turning back to the stove. “You didn’t want to leave when I brought it up.”

Jinyoung sighs softly. “I don’t mean physically leaving. I mean, thinking differently. Feeling differently. Like, having a completely different attitude because you feel lighter.”

“Have many people complained about your attitude?” Jackson asks innocently, and when Jinyoung looks up with a glare, he finds Jackson’s tongue between smiling teeth, obviously teasing.

“You wouldn't understand,” Jinyoung huffs.

Jackson waves the spoon at him, shaking his head. “No, I do! Those long tiring days and nights, all alone. Days turn into weeks, months, years without anybody asking if you're okay. People walking past you, perfectly blank faces, and you wonder how they can hide their sneers.”

Jinyoung looks up at him, brows raised with slight surprise, biting his lip.

“Huge thighs, webbed feet. And the warts! I was so embarrassed! No matter what I ate, how much I bathed! Do you know how hard it is to try and keep up a skincare routine, as a frog?” Jackson cries out.

Jinyoung rolls his eyes. “Very funny,” he says, crossing his arms and hiding a pout. He should have known better than to open himself up so quickly.

Jackson offers him another spoonful of fried rice in consolation. Jinyoung eats half, grumpily.

“I know what you mean,” Jackson assures him, softly. “And I'm sorry you feel that way. But I think everybody feels that way, sometimes. But something will change – or you’ll change something. When I was a prince, I would get tired of attending balls. I know that sounds ungrateful, but they were just so long.

“But then I would think about, how well a new trade agreement was working out for our villagers. And it went smoothly because of who attended the ball. So I tried to keep that in mind, and the events felt like they went faster.”

Jinyoung watches him talk about it with gleaming, proud eyes.

“If you can honestly think about the end product of your bad days, and it’s valuable, then maybe it will help cheer you up?” Jackson continues, shutting off the stove and setting bowls on the table.

“Like all the children who read your company’s books. Are you helping them learn? Is it their favorite time, when their dad scoops them up and reads to them? Isn’t that amazing?”

Jinyoung swallows heavily, heart hammering. But he nods gratefully anyway, smile tight. Jackson can find the moral in every story, just like in the storybooks.

 

//

 

It's Jackson's hundredth day here before Jinyoung has even started counting.

But Jackson has, and he gleefully directs him to Jinyoung's own wall calendar, the date circled with a heart. Of course, he calls it their anniversary.

“I have to pick up my paycheck, but I waited a little later until you got home so we could go together. Then we can go right away for barbecue to celebrate!” Jackson explains, helping Jinyoung out of his suit jacket and hanging it for him.

“Meat does sound good,” Jinyoung admits, chest tight as he watches Jackson burst into a smile.

Soon, Jackson is swinging their linked arms down the avenue. Jinyoung is embarrassed, but he's learned by now that objecting to Jackson's small gestures just results in more over-the-top displays.

Jackson only lets go to unlock the pet cafe, as it's after-hours, but he's quick to intertwine their fingers once more inside.

“Jaebum hyung!” Jackson calls, and Jinyoung lags behind his shoulder shyly, even as their hands remain linked.

From the back of the shop, Jinyoung's musician neighbor appears. Jinyoung feels his ears turn red with surprise, but he calms quickly as he sees Jaebum is looking decidedly less smug than usual.

Unstyled hair jammed into a beanie, he holds a whining, wriggling Persian cat in one hand, and a crusty litter scoop in the other. His apron has a suspicious stain.

“Hey man,” Jaebum greets Jackson coolly. “Your check is in your cubby.” His eyes shift to Jinyoung, squinting with recognition. “Ah, is this the boyfriend? You live in the Parkgate building too, right? Are we all neighbors?”  
Jinyoung has no chance to correct him before Jackson nods and gasps excitedly. “Hyung, I had no idea!” He says. “We should all hang out sometime!”

He releases Jinyoung to head to his locker in the back.

Jinyoung bows politely at Jaebum, and then after a second thought, also ducks his head at the wailing cat in his clutch.

“I thought you did music stuff,” Jinyoung says. “You’ve always posted flyers for your shows. Is this your side thing?”

Jaebum looks a little embarrassed, plopping the cat onto a counter. It runs away immediately, sliding off the edge silently, like fuzzy puddle. “Sort of the opposite,” he says. “I own this place, and R&B is my weekend gig. Cats are my first love.”

Jinyoung nods, satisfied with a more complete understanding of him. First impressions are certainly failing him lately. “Thank you for hiring Jackson. I wasn't sure how easy it would be for him to fit in around town.”

“Is he not from around here?” Jaebum asks, surprised. “He's perfect with the customers, and the animals.”

“He's… a foreigner,” Jinyoung says with a smile.

On cue, Jackson reappears, waving an envelope with a grin. “It's pork time!” He crows.

“Don’t go overboard,” Jaebum says warningly, and Jinyoung glances at him in surprise as Jackson herds him back out toward the entrance.

“I know you’re saving up for a diamond, after all,” Jaebum winks, and Jackson laughs.

Jinyoung’s face burns, frozen in the doorway for a moment, realizing what that sounds like.

“Ah, I’m getting there, hyung!” Jackson says, nudging him gently, and Jinyoung finds his feet again, shuffling out the door. “It’s just a small one,” he says quietly, and he brushes Jinyoung’s cheek delicately.

Jaebum waves them out and locks up behind them, and they’re on their way.

The diamond, Jinyoung thinks sadly. He'd almost forgotten — not only is Jackson not from here, he plans on going back home. (And Jinyoung will be left alone, again.)

Jinyoung takes Jackson's hand first, this time.

 

//

 

“Kiss my ass!” the woman shouts, wrenching her arm out of the man’s grip and bustling away.

Jackson watches with wide, unashamed eyes, even as the other restaurant patrons try to pointedly avert their gaze.

The man pays the bill and wanders out in the same direction, Jinyoung noting his irritated expression melting into one of tender heartache. So predictable, he thinks.

“What does kiss my ass really mean?” Jackson wonders out loud, examining a seared piece of meat for a moment before shoving it in his mouth.

“I mean,” he says, mouth full and chewing, “what is the big deal about kissing somebody’s bottom? They say it like it's such a bad thing.” He swallows loudly.

Jinyoung watches him with a slight curl to his lip, glancing around to make sure no children are listening in. “It's really not kissing like that,” he says. “It's meant as an insult, to someone who doesn't want to, you know?”

“But what if I want to?” Jackson says cheekily, leaning in to nudge their shoulders together. Jinyoung nearly chokes on his bite of pork belly.

“I would kiss you anywhere,” says Jackson, nose brushing Jinyoung’s cheek.

Jinyoung hastily makes a lettuce wrap and shoves it into Jackson's mouth to stop his talking. But the arm that slides around Jinyoung's waist and the crescent, smiling shape of Jackson’s eyes repeats the same message.

It feels like Jinyoung's heart is rolling over in his chest, like there are a million butterflies tickling him in his diaphragm, like his face is burning pink and red and purple.

And it's more than Jackson's easy skinship, his fingers tickling into Jinyoung's side. It's the way he opens up, the way he absolutely blossoms with warm, easy affection for Jinyoung.

Jinyoung isn't used to feeling so wanted. He's had boyfriends, but even with Mark it had felt like a constant game of who could care less. Getting serious somehow felt like weakness, and they had played coy the whole way through.

And even before getting into a relationship, Jinyoung finds it hard to evaluate prospects fairly. Attractive men often feel leagues out of his reach, like his intimidating neighbor. And those who were interested often didn't feel worthy.

Jinyoung supposes Jackson — who was first a prince, and then a frog, and now exists somewhere in between — is a pretty good compromise.

Regardless, they fit. And Jinyoung never has to force it. In fact, Jinyoung very rarely even has to try.

Jackson makes all of his moments outside of work that much brighter, that much lighter, just by existing.

And it terrifies Jinyoung.

 

//

 

Jinyoung starts sharing his bed with Jackson in the winter. His apartment has never heated up very well, so leaving him on a bedroll on the ground feels particularly cruel.

This way, they can keep each other warm. It's simply a matter of practicality.

But it becomes a matter of quiet, intense intimacy. Jackson's body is so hot, so solid, and he never wears enough. Tanktops, even in the dead of winter, the sleeves cut so low that Jinyoung cannot avoid dragging nervous fingertips along the sides of his abdomen as they curl into one another.

And Jackson is a burrower, face digging into Jinyoung's neck like it's a soft pillow, lips burning against his skin.

As bold as Jackson has been about holding Jinyoung's hand and declaring his willingness to kiss ass, he's never pressured Jinyoung into anything beyond the innocent.

It’s not until February that Jackson starts kissing him goodnight. It starts so naturally, a murmur of sweet dreams, eyelids already heavy, lashes fluttering against cheekbones. Then Jinyoung feels his lips on his, a sigh shared between them that sounds like relief.

And then they sleep.

Jackson starts kissing him in the morning too, before he gets up to start breakfast. This one’s usually loud and short, Jinyoung protesting about morning breath.

And then they go about their day.

Somewhere along the way, Jinyoung became impatient for more, body arching against Jackson's, hoping for something beyond the leg that fits between his. Whining quietly and running his hands over Jackson's chest.

But Jackson settles them back to sleep each night, breath even and slow.

Jinyoung grows more and more frustrated, knowing satisfaction is so close. One day he blatantly watches Jackson's cock shifting heavily in his sweatpants, makes eye contact and licks his lips. (Like some desperate teenager in a gym class.)

Still, Jackson doesn’t fuck him until May. Jinyoung hesitates to even call it that, although they have been rough at times. Maybe it really is lovemaking - a term Jinyoung’s scoffed at before.

Making love, Jackson is intense, attentive, and versatile. He takes Jinyoung apart, little by little, tongue and fingers feeling absolutely fluid, hips forceful. He will do anything to make Jinyoung come first, even when he asks to switch and Jinyoung hammers him into the wall.

Jinyoung is relaxed, glowing, a little goofier. His mother has started asking if he's hiding somebody. He's thinking about bringing Jackson home soon.

Besides the physical benefits, even Jackson’s good attitude seems to be contagious.

It starts to factor into Jinyoung's work. He gets a promotion when he pitches a book based around Jackson’s life story — a modern interpretation of the Frog Prince fairy tale.

Jinyoung makes sure it's a little more lighthearted than the real thing. The warlock becomes a clumsy wizard, and the pouty boy the prince meets in the modern world remains just a friend. Of course, the prince makes it back home to his kingdom.

(Happily ever after.)

 

//

 

Jinyoung comes home for their one year anniversary with a little turtle-shaped cake. He'd gone back and forth on whether or not it should be a frog for quite a while. He finally decided Jackson would appreciate the homage to his clan’s totem, more than another teasing prod about the curse.

When he bursts into the apartment, Jackson is seated at their little table, dressed in his old breeches, blouse and jacket. He has a little bag beside him and is wearing a serious expression.

Jinyoung places the cartoony cake in front of him sheepishly. “What's going on?” He asks.

“Is this for us?” Jackson smiles, but it's not his happiest grin, there's hardly any teeth.

“It's been one year,” Jinyoung says, eying the bag on the table nervously. He had a whole spiel prepared about how it was a turtle cake, and also chocolate turtle cake, because obviously

“The jeweler called last night,” Jackson says, patting the bag. “And I went to the butcher this morning.”

Jinyoung recoils, remembering the necessary pieces. Something about blood. Something about a heart.

“I didn't—!” Jinyoung sputters, blood rushing in his ears. “I didn't know you were so close to getting the diamond already.”

Jackson stands up, grasps the bag in one hand and looks toward the doorway sadly. Jinyoung turns and stares at the entry, remembering the day with the storm and the bullfrog.

“You have to go to the river,” Jinyoung says, throat feeling thick.

“It's the portal,” Jackson confirms, and his naturally deep, boisterous voice sounds weak.

Jinyoung calls them a cab, and they ride in absolute silence, the middle seat between them feeling like a canyon.

Maybe Jinyoung jumped into things too quickly. Maybe he had over-thought the way Jackson held his hand while they slept, had over-thought how he whispered I love you into the skin of his thigh (it aches now, at the thought.)

Maybe he'd jumped to conclusions. He was sure, they were in love, and everything was amazing. But Jackson was still planning on leaving.

So Jinyoung must have been wrong.

It’s busy at the river, and it takes them quite a while to walk a length of it to a quiet, empty spot under an overpass.

Jackson takes out a simple ring from a jewelry box, and a little bag of blood. Jinyoung eyes them warily, a skeptical portion of him still doubting the more fantastic elements of Jackson’s origin.

Jackson pricks a hole in the bag and murmurs a foreign verse as he drizzles the blood over the diamond and into the river. Jinyoung watches, eyebrow raised, as the blood runs out and nothing seems to happen.

But then the water starts shifting, the flow of it doubling back in portions, and suddenly, quite terrifically, they stand beside a small, sparkling whirlpool.

“What about the heart?” Jinyoung whispers, and Jackson pauses for a moment, and then his face softens into a warm smile, as his hand comes to settle across Jinyoung’s own chest.

His pulse hammers away in a panic beneath his touch. Jinyoung looks down at Jackson’s bloodied hand, the little ring looped temporarily on his pinky. It glints mockingly at Jinyoung despite the dark stain of blood.

“I’ve had that part for a while, I think,” Jackson says.

Jinyoung’s eyes well up. “You have,” he replies bitterly. “But you’re leaving it behind.”

“You wrote it ending this way,” says Jackson, face shifting with surprise. “You said they lived happily ever after this way.”

Jinyoung's tears overflow, racing hot down his face. “That was a story! It wasn't us, it was for children. Did I include the part where I sucked you off in the kitchen? Did I include the part where I had been depressed for ages before you came along? The part where you saved my life?”

“I don't belong here,” Jackson says, voice trembling, “you've said so before.”

“No. But you belong with me,” Jinyoung sobs, shoulders shaking.

The whirlpool is still rushing beside them, the urgent sound of it making Jinyoung uneasy, on edge.

“I thought – you seemed so sure that this wasn’t how love worked,” Jackson says, looking equally anxious. But he isn’t even glancing at the portal, eyes fixed on Jinyoung’s, hands clutching at his trembling arms.

“That was when we first met,” Jinyoung sputters. “You were a frog one minute and calling me your true love the next! It just takes me a little longer,” he says.

“Did it… take you?” Jackson wonders, tilting his head. “Did you get, took?” He laughs a little at his awkward turn of phrase, but Jinyoung can see his eyes shining with unshed tears too.

“Yes!” Jinyoung says, shoving him slightly, then thinking better of it and grabbing onto his jacket tightly. “Yes, you’re the one that I love, and I don’t want you to go back. Because you make my life so much better. You make me think differently, and feel differently.”

Jackson flushes, smiling, but he looks again at the whirpool, biting his lip.

“You make me feel different too,” he admits. “I thought I understood what love was. That it was simple everywhere. But you helped me realize it’s more powerful than just breaking a curse. It’s gotten better every day,” he says.

“I didn’t know, love would keep changing with time. Nobody told me. And nobody told me, I might have to make a choice between being with the one I love, and going home.” His smile has faded.

Jinyoung chokes back another sob, nodding numbly and letting go of Jackson’s coat so he can wrench away. He can’t compete with the feeling of home.

Jinyoung doesn’t want to watch him leave, so he turns and steps away, staring at his feet. He hears something hit the water, hears the dull roar of the whirlpool fading away, and he stares up at the sky. His tears burn, wet and hot as they course down his neck, but he doesn’t bother wiping them away, knowing there’s still more to come.

The clouds are growing dark and ominous, circling low overhead with the promise of a storm. Jinyoung curses as a raindrop hits him right in the eyeball. (As if the tears weren’t enough.)

“Let’s go home,” says a voice, warmth wrapping around Jinyoung, and he twists in shock to find Jackson without a coat. “That itchy jacket didn’t belong here,” he says with an attempt at a laugh.

And Jinyoung screeches in frustration, yanking out of his grip and slapping him over and over again. “Who do you think you are, playing me like this? I thought you jumped, you bastard!”

Jackson laughs more genuinely now, grasping Jinyoung’s face and wiping his tears with his thumbs, even as the rain falls. As he kisses him, the rain starts to pound around them harder, but the warmth between them makes it bearable. His lips fit neatly to Jinyoung’s, slick tongue sliding in to taste him and humming in satisfaction.

The rising smell of wet earth, once stifling in Jinyoung’s distress, now feels comfortingly warm as they separate. Jinyoung finds it reassures him they’re still both on the same planet, together.

“Let’s take care of one another now,” Jackson says lowly in his ear, slipping the ring onto one of Jinyoung’s fingers as they walk, arms linked.

“Someone will call the police if we do it out here,” Jinyoung says, wiping his tears away and waving for a passing cab. “You can’t just do it wherever you want, like some animal.” He gazes down fondly at the diamond shining on his finger. He hadn’t known he’d wanted it so badly.

Jackson looks sideways at him with a sly grin, as a car stops in front of them.

“Stop!” Jinyoung gasps. “I’ve never thought about this before. Did you fuck nonstop as a toad? Did you dick down a million little frogettes?” Jinyoung asks, immediately caught up and sadness forgotten, as Jackson opens the door for him to slide into the backseat.

“I don’t know if that’s any of your business,” Jackson says, shutting the door behind him once he’s settled right beside him. “You haven’t told me about any of your exes.”

“Because they’re all human,” Jinyoung says a little too loudly, and their driver sheepishly asks for their destination. Jinyoung gives him the address, looking annoyed to have been interrupted, rather than embarrassed.

“If you must know,” Jackson says quietly, as they pull away from the curb. “I dicked no one. Frogs don’t even have penises.”

Jinyoung gapes at him for a moment, and then nods seriously. “So you really meant it,” he says.

Jackson blinks in curiosity.

“When you said you were indebted to me,” Jinyoung declares with a grin.

Jackson cackles, cheeks pink as he tries to hide his face in the damp fabric of Jinyoung’s sweater.

Jinyoung looks down at him with overwhelming fondness, face aflush and desperately pleased. He eyes the river growing smaller with distance in the rear-view mirror, a rainbow aligning in the grey sky. He thinks, this is what true love must really be like. Ever after. (Happily.)


End file.
